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The World; A Killer's 'I'm Sorry' Isn't Enough Any More

ADECADE ago, as Latin America struggled to turn from military dictatorship to democracy, Argentina evolved a new strategy: After seeking out details of the political killings, torture, and other crimes committed during an infamous crackdown on leftists, it gave up on efforts to punish the military for its crimes.

Thus was born the theory that the way to reunify a traumatized country was to vent the truth about what had happened, while forgiving the guilty.

It was an appealing approach for societies that fear uprisings by their generals, and almost immediately Chile and Uruguay adopted it. Soon after, it was being widely emulated across Latin America, producing a new brand of conventional wisdom among democratically-elected leaders: Amnesties for the military were the way to achieve national reconciliation.

There were critics too, people who said that only a full discussion of guilt at public trials could really close wounds that continue to tear at society. But the warnings went unheeded. And the theory spread that truth and reconciliation went hand-in-hand, without the need for punishment and justice. Today, that theory is being put to the test most notably in South Africa.

But now, if recent events in the lands where it was invented are any measure, new attention is turning to what the critics said. A decade after putting theory into practice, Latin America may have a better idea of the truth, but it is still a long way from reconciliation.

The most obvious sign is a return in recent weeks to the classic notion that crimes should be punished, not merely acknowledged. Political leaders, human rights groups and relatives of victims across the region, as well as foreign governments, are undertaking ambitious and combative efforts to bring the military to justice.

An End to Amnesty?

In Argentina, where at least 9,000 people perished in the 1970's during what became known as the ''dirty war'' against the left, support is mounting in Congress to repeal amnesty laws passed in the 1980's. These gave immunity to more than 1,000 junior military officers for abuses they committed under orders from superiors.

In Chile, an appeals court has agreed to hear a criminal complaint charging the former dictator, Gen. Augusto Pinochet, with genocide for crimes committed during his 17-year regime, which ended in 1990. The complaint was filed by the Communist Party leader, Gladys Marin, whose husband was one of 3,000 victims of death squads run by the military.

In Spain, judges are investigating the disappearance of Spanish citizens in Argentina and Chile, despite refusals by Governments in both countries to recognize Spain's jurisdiction. The judges recently succeeded in obtaining international arrest warrants for former military leaders they want to question.

''These latest efforts to bring the militaries to justice in Argentina, Chile and elsewhere show that an amnesty is by no means the cure-all that many people hoped it would be,'' said Jose Miguel Vivanco, executive director of the Americas division of Human Rights Watch. ''It's not only the relatives of victims who are keeping this issue alive,'' he said. ''There are important sectors, very relevant sectors of society, for whom human rights and justice are still high on the agenda.''

It is unclear exactly why so many new efforts are now underway. For years, many political and social analysts had concluded that Latin American societies were resigned to leaving the past behind.

In recent years, however, as the region's military forces have come under fuller civilian control and as opposition parties have felt freer to make an issue of the amnesties, the issue of atrocities has begun to resurface. In some cases, military men themselves have sparked debates, either because they confessed publicly to clear their consciences, or because they bragged about their crimes to show they were invulnerable.

Last month, Argentina's President, Carlos Saul Menem, stripped a retired Navy captain of his rank, pension, and military housing after he publicly defended the torture and killings of the 1970's. The officer, Alfredo Astiz, is so despised in Argentina that when he appears in public, he is often assaulted by people, many of whom claim he tortured them or their relatives.

''It's taken 20 years of marching around this plaza, and my feet ache, but we're finally getting closer to some form of justice,'' said Hebe de Bonifini, leader of the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo, whose children were among those who perished in the dirty war.

The amnesty laws now under attack in Argentina were passed in 1986 and 1987 under President Raul Alfonsin, who was elected in 1983 after the military junta lost power because of the debacle it provoked in the Falkland Islands.

Mr. Alfonsin initially sought to punish the military for its atrocities. An investigative civil commission heard testimony from witnesses and compiled a voluminous historical record. Charges were brought against officers of all ranks; many were sentenced to prison.

But restive military officers staged violent uprisings that Mr. Alfonsin said forced him to introduce the amnesty laws.

Now the Argentine Congress seems close to reversing the amnesty, even though the current President, Mr. Menem, is resisting. .

''The reason Argentina's amnesty laws have failed to reconcile this country's horrible past is because they granted the military immunity without responsibility,'' said Martin Abregu, a director of the Center for Legal and Social Studies, a leading human rights group. ''In order for a society to be made whole afterward, it has to recognize what happened, repair the victims, and punish those who did wrong. That doesn't mean you have to put abusers in jail, but at the very least they should be required to confess their sins and apologize.''

Lessons for South Africa

That is the very approach South Africa is taking, and Mr. Abregu said the South Africans in fact learned from Argentina's experience. There, a truth commission that investigates crimes committed during the apartheid era has subpoena powers that force individuals to testify. Then it can offer amnesty on a case-by-case basis, giving human rights abusers good reason to come forward, confess, seek forgiveness and name accomplices.

It is a far cry from what happens in Chile, where military officers are protected by an amnesty General Pinochet imposed as a condition for relinquishing power. Court investigations like that to which General Pinochet may have to answer can discover what happened to political opponents, but that makes it possible only to embarrass the guilty.

Still, the fact that even General Pinochet may now have to answer for the past in court encourages people like Alfredo Jocelyn-Holt Letelier, a historian at the University of Santiago in Chile. ''People are no longer afraid,'' he said, ''to express what they feel and many have very strong feelings about this period of history.''